


Heavy as Granite

by Latigra



Series: Persona 5 Canon Divergence Fics [3]
Category: Persona 4, Persona 5
Genre: Akechi Gets Confidants, Akechi's Mental Health in General, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Crossover, Foul Language, It's Just Going to Get Worse, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating might go up, Self harming behavior
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:55:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27928636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Latigra/pseuds/Latigra
Summary: Goro Akechi survives the fight with his father's cognition of him. He's not particularly happy about it.
Relationships: Akechi Goro & Shido Masayoshi, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Series: Persona 5 Canon Divergence Fics [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2023718
Comments: 10
Kudos: 89





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Still stuck in quarantine on weekends with not much to do but play videogames and write fanfic. This is unbetaed and I'm not sure how often it will be updated or where it's going. Just being honest lol.

Goro Akechi leaves his apartment the day Shido’s messed-up cognition of him almost kills him in the fucker’s Metaverse cruise ship. It’s not his apartment, just a comfortable cage his father had given him. There’s nothing in there that means anything to him - no portraits on the walls, no trinkets on the furniture, no items of clothes that hold any particular memories. No need to go back to take anything. Instead, he goes to the fanciest electronic store on the way to the most expensive hotel in Tokyo, makes a v-line for the priciest laptop, and heads to the register. Through an exhausted fog, he also grabs a brand new smartphone and a case that claims to be lined with genuine gold. The clerk gasps when the bill comes out to five-hundred-twenty-thousand-something yen, then looks at Goro in alarm and offers to show him more economical (and more efficient) models. 

Goro responds by picking out a set of bluetooth headphones that cost over fifty-thousand yen and all but throwing them at her. “Add these too. And a new SIM card.”

“We don’t sell SIM cards here, sir,” says the clerk.

Right. The fight with the cognition must have lobotomized him. “Fine.” He’ll just get a new wireless provider later.

He pays with Shido’s emergency credit card, the one he’s only supposed to use in life or death situations, after exhausting all other options. It goes through without a hitch.

When he gets to the hotel, he asks for the most expensive room available, and only because he feels too fucked-up to throw a proper shitfit and get whatever bastard is in the master suite kicked out. Luckily for him, the master suite happens to be free, so Goro hands over Shido’s emergency card, head throbbing as the concierge takes down the info, then stumbles to the elevator. The concierge knows better than to offer assistance.

He drops his attache when he gets to the room, wincing at the _clack_ of his brand new laptop hitting the floor. With any luck, it broke, and he’ll have an excuse to buy an even more extravagant replacement. If he’s alive by morning. Not that it matters. He remembers to slide off his shoes when he gets to the futon, does so while swallowing down bile, peels off his clothes, then burrows under the blanket. Tears gather at the corners of his eyes, and an urge to curl into a fetal position overtakes him. He’s too exhausted to hug himself, or even cry, so he just lays there. Paralyzed, barely able to inhale and exhale, and then he crosses over into unconsciousness. 

Some time later - maybe an hour, maybe a month, who cares - he wakes up. Mind clear as a sparkling stream, his memory sharp, mocking him with an image of his own face as his father sees him. Goro finally has enough energy to weep. 

He cries silently, until his throat is as dry as sandpaper left out in a desert and snot mixed with tears has made a disgusting puddle on the hotel’s pristine sheets. Tears are supposed to be cathartic, if psychology textbooks and shitty fiction are to be believed, but Goro feels his rage bubbling hotter with every milliliter of fluid leaving his body. He will kill someone for this. The only reason he hasn’t yet is that every last of his joints feels shattered, and that he hasn’t decided who he’s going to kill first - Shido, or that _motherfucker_ Akira. 

Just the thought of the bastard’s name gives Goro the rush of energy necessary to climb out of bed. He ignores his painfully dry throat and looks for his attache - some servant has placed it on a table by the window while he slept. With a growl, Goro reaches for it, finds his phone, and then shambles over to the balcony. The sight of Tokyo at twilight almost snaps him out of his fury, but a flash of red lights from some random building reminds him of Akira’s gloves. He starts to hurl the phone down into the city, but he doesn’t know where it would end up. It might kill some innocent - or not-so-innocent - passerby falling from such a height, and then some halfway decent detective might trace the murder weapon back to him. While Goro has no intention of returning to that saccharine Detective Prince persona, he doesn’t want to go down in such a stupid fashion.

So he turns back to the hotel room, looks for the heaviest ornament in it (a black matte wolf figurine that would be great for bashing Akira’s fucking brains out), and whales on the phone. Until glass from the screen flies out and scrapes his chin, until the wolf’s head shatters, until Goro's lightheaded. He drops the wolf’s body eventually, breath coming out in gasps and knuckles bloody. 

“Find me through that, Oracle,” he says to no one.

Then he winces at his hoarse voice and looks around for the minifridge. 

Water only makes him more aware of how much he feels like shit, but he knows he needs it. He wipes his damp cheeks and goes back to the attache. The piece-of-shit new laptop needs to be charged, so he has to waste a few more moments looking for a jack. Heedless of the fragments of glass everywhere, he walks back to the futon. 

As he waits for the laptop to wake, he gulps down more water. His gaze goes back to the shattered phone, and he gets up to look for the SIM card. A piece of glass pierces his thumb as he digs around, making him curse. He probably should have gotten the stupid shit out before going apeshit, but there’s no need to cry over spilled milk. Once he gets the SIM card out, he walks to the kitchen and pops it into the microwave. As the sparks fly, Goro looks around the suite. There are many things left to destroy, but he needs to calm the fuck down. Fucking up a single pricey statue can be chalked up to a rich kid having a juvenile meltdown, but he will be kicked out on his ass if he does any permanent damage to the property. 

Goro takes a deep breath, grabs one of the smaller kitchen knives to hide under his pillow, then walks back to the futon. Cautiously, he closes his eyes and tries to call for his Personas. Deep down, Goro fears that his humiliating defeat made his powers disappear, like some bizarre erectile dysfunction. He needn’t have. In the back of his mind, he feels Loki cackling, feeding off his destructive energy while Robin Hood draws in on himself, ashamed of the tantrum he’s throwing. Fuck him, too. Goro can’t spend all his life acting like a perfect angel. In fact, he plans to never again put on a simpering smile for anyone.

The laptop makes an irritating noise, a _ding_ as it turns on for the first time, but Goro realizes that he doesn’t have anything to do if he’s not planning to go back to his job at the police station. He glares at the screen, not feeling the slightest motivation to set it up. Without a task and with his rage ebbing, Goro feels anxiety biting at his heels, so he gets up and looks in the fridge for a bottle of alcohol. It doesn’t matter what type; he just needs not to _think_ for a little while. 

And he won't. Maybe Shido would send one of his goons to slit his throat for taking a dump on his credit card, whatever. Goro does not intend to be conscious for it, though he does go back to the futon to look for the knife. Just in case. There's no need to make things easier for whoever Shido sends to put him in his place. He grabs a blanket, too. Goro hates being cold.

There's a giant screen in the room by the balcony. Goro turns it on and scrolls through the channels, quickly settling on classic _Super Sentai_ episodes. With a smirk, he picks the hundred-thousand yen subscription and starts on episode one. The alcohol tastes like shit, burns his throat as it goes down. That's fine. He won't feel it for much longer.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A heartfelt father-son conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't have time to write much this week, but I banged more of this out.
> 
> Thanks to my friend Ro for helping along!

Bile wakes him up. Literally. Goro almost vomits in his own mouth, from some nightmare or just nausea from binge drinking, who knows? Since he hadn't eaten since the last time he went to the Metaverse, there isn't much to throw up at all. He feels under the pillow for his knife, then opens his eyes. The sky is still dark. Or it's dark again. It wouldn't surprise Goro to learn that he lost an entire day.

The screen is off. Goro searches for the remote and turns it back on, then tells the streaming service that yes, he's still here. He wants to keep watching.

Gagging, he untangles himself from the blanket and starts shambling to the bathroom. In the background, one of the Sentai characters is in the middle of a speech about trusting his best friend with all his heart. It sounds like Akira's favorite sycophant, Sakamoto. In spirit, if not in tone or vocabulary. Goro frowns, looking at the floor to watch out for broken glass, but the hotel's cleaning staff cleaned up while he dozed in a drunken stupor. At any moment, one of Shido's goons could have slit his throat. Obviously, he had not.

Either Shido is richer than Goro had assumed, or he's too busy with the election. Or Akira has managed to change his cognition. Goro finds, as pulls down his underwear, that he doesn't particularly care either way. He'll have to check the news at some point.

He urinates for what feels like a lifetime, vaguely thinking that he should be grateful he didn't piss himself in his sleep. His mother had a few times, close to the end, when going without alcohol for too long had made her shake like a leaf. 

_She would have loved you anyway,_ Robin Hood whispers firmly, like Goro doubts that. Like it would have fucking mattered.

He's so nauseous that the toothpaste almost makes him throw up again, not that the discomfort stops his stomach from clawing at him hungrily. Considering how many calories there are in alcohol, his stomach can go fuck itself.

The concierge is waiting for him when he steps out of the bathroom. For a moment, Goro stares at the bald man, at his formal kimono and pseudo-servile expression, and assumes that he's about to be politely shucked out the window. For the first time, Goro considers that perhaps he should not have destroyed his phone before getting a replacement. It's his only way to escape into the Metaverse. 

But the man is middle-aged and alone. Lanky and exhausted as he is, Goro is confident that he can take on an old man with narrow shoulders and cumbersome clothes. He glares.

The man bows at Goro before handing him a cell phone. 

Warily, Goro accepts.

"Hello?"

"What the fuck happened to your phone?" Shido spits at him.

A frigid calm pours over Goro. "I destroyed it." He looks at the concierge. Or, rather, at the top of his bald head.

"Yes, but _why_?" 

"There was a security breach," says Goro, as though he's talking about the weather.

"What _security_ breach?"

"I handled it," says Goro, taking his eyes off the concierge and walking towards the window.

"And?" 

"And what?"

"Listen, you-"

"No, it's time for _you_ to listen, you fetid piece of _shit_ ," Goro interrupts, loud and furious. 

It stops Shido in his tracks. Goro can picture the fucker in his home office, standing by the window and looking down at Tokyo, his mouth hanging open in shock because one of his lackeys is talking back to him. 

"Without me, you'd still be kissing corporate ass for a couple hundred yen and billboard advertisements for your next Diet campaign."

"Akechi-"

"-If I tell you there was a security breach and I handled it-"

"-does this have to do with the Phantoms-"

"-then I fucking handled it-"

"-Did their leader steal your heart-"

"-Do I sound fucking _remorseful_ to you?" Goro screeches. "Am I confessing my sins and crying about what a bastard I am?"

"Akechi," Shido starts, trying to sound firm.

"Shut the fuck up," says Goro. He could fling himself out the window with how disappointing this is. Years, literal fucking _years_ of his life, absolutely wasted walking on eggshells around this asshole. "Go back to doing speeches about the glory of the rising sun, or whatever bullshit gets your small-dicked donors off these days, and let me handle the Phantom Thieves and their _leader_." 

He hangs up the phone, considers throwing it at the wall, and instead whirls on the concierge. "I suppose you ratted me out."

The concierge bows. "Perhaps. Or perhaps the bank called after you charged upwards of a million yen to Master Shido's credit card."

Fair enough. Goro shrugs and opens his mouth to tell the concierge to fuck off. "I'm gonna need new clothes," he says instead.

"Of course, sir," says the concierge. "We have several personal shoppers on retainer, all expertly trained in matters of fashion and eager to enhance your delicate features."

"Fuck you; my features aren't delicate."

"My apologies, sir." The man bows deeply. For second, it looks like he'll drop down into a kowtow, but he stops at the waist. "You have the most masculine, ruggedly handsome jawline."

Goro hears Loki cackling in his head. "Just get out."

The concierge leaves with one last deferential bow, leaving Goro to seethe. It takes him a few breaths to notice that the concierge left the phone behind. That probably was on purpose. Goro looks down at the screen and. . . yeah. There it is. The Nav app. His thumb hovers over it, but he grunts and puts the phone down. It’s not a good idea to go to the Metaverse on an empty stomach. While struggling through a hangover. Which Goro had learned the hard way, years ago, after a particularly demanding little speech from Shido. Although, he gets the feeling from Loki that being a little tipsy in the Metaverse would be an interesting experience. 

And Robin Hood is aghast at the notion, at the very idea of risking his life in an aimless Metaverse joyride. Always so boring and sensible, his Robin Hood. Most of the time, he’s right. But Goro enjoys being _wrong_ , even more often than that. Besides, Goro will be damned if he goes down in a drunken haze. For all he knows, Shido’s hitmen are on their way. The concierge will have the alcohol removed from the room if asked.

 _No._ Loki’s voice.

Right. There’s no need to stop wasting Shido’s money. Goro gathers all the liquor in the suite and takes it to the kitchen sink. While sipping from a bottle of sparkling water, he pours all the expensive alcohol down the drain. It’s a calming ritual, though Goro cannot tell if he’s enjoying the image of Shido’s eyes popping out of his head in rage when he sees the hotel bill, or if he’s somehow getting some benefit from the mere stink of alcohol fumes as he pours. A fanciful thought, perhaps, but he of all people shouldn't underestimate the power of a placebo.

 _We need a plan,_ says Robin Hood.

Yes, of course. But what? Humiliating Shido in the national stage seems so petty now that he’s explored that odious cognitive cruise ship, brimming with people that are nothing more than rats to Shido. The fucker sees even Goro, who’s powers had brought him so much success and recognition, as nothing more than a needy, disposable tool. He hadn’t even bothered to confirm his obvious suspicion that Goro is one of his bastards.

While Goro very much intended to make the fucker _pay_ , someone else had taken precedence. 

Akira.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My [twitter account!](https://twitter.com/LaTigra46636273)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The only thing I managed to write this week.

It feels like the Metaverse is calling to him, but Goro was chosen a long time ago. The Metaverse is static, unconcerned with Goro unless he meddles with its shadows. He is powerful in the Metaverse, but he is also nobody. That last part, at least, is not so different from the real world. So he resists the urge to vanish in Mementos for as long as he can manage, until physical hunger drags him back out. There’s no need for such dramatics when he has Loki and Robin Hood with him, and Shido’s money to burn.

He does wish he had not dumped all the alcohol down the drain.

No. He can’t drink for six months. That’s the deal he made with himself. Two binges a year. The risk of becoming a drunk if he keeps it that rare are minimal. He’s probably just hungry anyway, he thinks while looking for the room service menu to distract himself. His palate is otherwise nonexistent, but he still orders the most expensive shit on the menu.

While waiting, he takes the SIM card from the concierge’s phone and transfers it to his new one. The Nav app appears immediately, its eye briefly pulsing red. Goro ignores it. Tries to distract himself from the gaudy, golden case. It attracts attention to itself, and not in the understated, classy way that Goro has ruthlessly trained himself to be. The forgotten rat bouncing from foster home to foster home had learned to navigate Masayoshi Shido’s world of mirrors, after all. He can’t be that person anymore, nor the ghost from before. A gaudy, golden phone case-carrying douchebag is as good a personality as any.

Mechanically, he opens his internet browser, which is how he remembers that he was due at the TV station for some ridiculous talk show. There’s a speculative, breathless article trending about his uncharacteristic absence and his failure to call the station ahead of time to apologize and provide some official reason for it.

His brief spark of panic vanishes when someone knocks at his door. Too soon for the room service to have arrived. He grabs the knife, hiding it beneath the blanket he’s using as a makeshift robe, before answering the door.

The first thought that hits him is that someone has sent a cheap knock-off of Takamaki.

“ _Hi, nice to meet you!_ ” she says, in English, while twirling a lock of blond hair between her fingers. In her other hand, she holds a thick, leather-bound portfolio, which angles towards him before switching to Japanese. “I was told you needed assistance with your wardrobe.”

Goro stares at her, thinking of how she must see him: tense and thin, without an iota of concealer hiding his endless blemishes, in his underwear, with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

“Okay,” he says, stepping to the side.

The girl bows as she walks forward. “My name is Ann.”

“Of course it is,” mumbles Goro.

“Excuse me?”

“Nevermind,” says Goro.

Her full name is Ann Wilde, and she claims to be an American expat with ties to the New York fashion industry. She also seems to think that New York is the capital of the United States, so all of that’s probably bullshit. Goro watches her as she babbles excitedly about themes, and winter fashion, and the latest designs from France, etc., etc., and considers the likelihood that Shido would send someone so incompetent to hurt or kill him. It would take her mere seconds to google the capital of the United States.

“I think sepia and mahogany are great colors for you,” she says.

“No,” interrupts Goro.

“Huh?”

“I want other colors,” says Goro. Those are the shades that Shido’s stylists chose for him, gushing about his _unique_ features all the while. “Not brown or red. Or white. Or black.” Honestly, just erase him from the face of the Earth. “Let’s go with grey.”

“Oh, but grey will wash out,” says the girl.

“I know,” says Goro.

But she’s not listening to him. “At first, I thought you were a brunet,” she says, “but it’s more a copper color, with a hint of red in certain lights, and your _eyes_. You’re so gorgeous.”

“I know what I look like,” says Goro. And it’s not _gorgeous_. Not naturally. “Get out.”

“Oh, no!” says the girl, instantly panicked. “Please, I need this job really badly. You’re not hot at all; you’re actually kind of gross-looking right now, and you even stink a little. Just saying. There is a private bath in this room.”

Goro sighs. He could kill this stupid girl if only he could muster the energy.

“Please,” she weeps. “I’ll have to go back to Li- to New York.”

“You’re not American,” says Goro, exasperated.

“ _Yes, I am!_ ” she yells, in English.

“ _The United States capital is Washington, D.C., not New York,_ ” says Goro, also in English to demonstrate that languages are not imprinted on a person via nationality. “ _I know the stereotype is that Americans are bad at geography, but most probably know their own capital city._ ”

The girl starts outright _wailing_ , certainly as loudly and as obnoxiously as any Western girl would. Again, going by stereotypes. If this is who Shido sent to kill him, then Goro is downright offended.

The doorbell rings again while the girl sobs.

 _Dinner_ , thinks Goro, as he considers if he should get the knife again.

He does, just in case. The girl won’t be an issue. She’s gone by the time the server enters the room to lay out a massive tray loaded with gourmet foods that Goro can’t be bothered to even identify, though a delicious waft makes his belly clench with hunger. She must have retreated to the bathroom to hide from the server, and hopefully, to compose herself. Goro almost complains about her, but then the concierge might come back to apologize profusely for his servant’s performance, and he is in no mood.

She returns as he’s eating, stepping forward in timid steps. Still sniffling pitifully, further trying Goro’s patience. He isn’t going to report her; it should be obvious by now. Doesn’t she know when to cut her losses and run?

“We can do grey,” she says.

Goro doesn’t even look up at her, busy as he is glaring at the food. The unagi they’ve served him tastes like oily paper, despite its price.

“But,” continues the girl, “I recommend against it, even if your goal is to fade into the background. It really will clash with your coloring. There’s plenty of light, sepia-toned clothes with minimal styles you can buy. If you want.”

Goro knows. The way to disappear is to look like you belong; looking bad will make him a bigger target than looking good ever could. “Sit down,” he says. “Help me with this overpriced trash.”

She lets out a huge sigh, rushing to sit in front of him. “Thank you so much, sir. I won’t let you down; I promise. It’ll be like you’ve put on an invisibility cloak." She takes a piece of sushi, beaming as she chews. "This is delicious!”

Despite his hunger, Goro struggles to swallow it down.

The girl is not comfortable with silence, so she babbles on about herself once she finally accepts that Goro has no interest in an in-depth discussion of his wardrobe. She admits that she’s actually from Portugal, but had learned very quickly that “New York” sounds a lot more impressive to the Japanese ear. “My real name is Gabriela Santos, and my English is really not _that_ good.” She wipes at her cheeks, but the damage to her makeup has already been done; her striking blue irises are stark against her red-rimmed eyes. “Every time a real American stays at this hotel, I pray and pray I don’t get assigned to them.”

Honestly, it seems like such a dumb thing to lie about. A foreign girl is a foreign girl. Any guest looking for that probably wouldn’t make a fuss about getting one from Portugal rather than the States.

“But your English?” She makes a delighted noise. “It sounded perfect, like you were in one of their TV shows.”

He can read and write the language without issue, but Goro has never had to speak more than a few English phrases out loud. “If you must suck up to me with flattery, do _try_ to come up with compliments I can pretend to believe.”

“Huh?”

“Otherwise, you sound like you’re making fun of me,” adds Goro. How has this girl not been caught before?

“It sounds like you’re one of the foreigners on their TV shows,” she says.

Better. As far as flattery goes, it barely counts as such, but at least it’s closer to the truth. Goro nods.

She smiles.

He looks down at a last sushi roll, debating as to whether he should eat more of it, when he hears the voice.

_I am thou. . ._

“What?”

_Thou art I. . ._

“What?” asks the girl.

Goro looks down, breath caught. He stays silent as the voice babbles about wings of redemption - the same one he’d heard in the engine room, the second he’d chosen to die in a stupid, _pointless_ flare of heroism so that _fucker_ Akira could get away. His heart hammers in his chest, hands curling into fists and fuck knows what else. Something prompts the girl to lay a hand on his shoulder, ask if he’s okay, if she should call someone. The Star arcana, he makes out through a panicked fog.

“I’m fine,” says Goro. He takes a calming breath, straightens his back and rolls his shoulders. Looks at the girl’s hand still on him.

She takes a step back but still gazes down at him in obvious concern.

“I have a sensitive stomach,” says Goro, in the best facsimile of the pleasant, sheepish detective prince persona he can muster. “It’s a common problem. Please excuse me.”

“Okay,” says the girl, with a light frown. “But can I come back tomorrow with some outfits? Just to try and see what sizes we- you want?”

“Yes, of course,” says Goro, pleasantly, intent to get her out of the room.

He rushes to his new phone the moment she’s gone, hands trembling. The eye of the Nav app looks the same as always, but Goro can’t breathe as he opens it. Instead of dragging him to the Metaverse, it opens up into a stylized sepia user interface, completely unlike anything Goro has ever seen. There’s a black and white profile painting of his face in the background, looking off into the distance. Sad, and as close to genuinely beautiful as he ever looks. It almost distracts him from the blinking tab labeled **CONFIDANTS**.

“What the fuck?” Goro mumbles to himself.

He opens the tab and stares.

And stares.

Another set of tabs. One with a portrait of the girl, her blond curls softer and her smile sadder. **_Star; Gabriela Santos._** That would be fine. Interesting, even. _1\. A Portuguese girl who loves fashion. She has agreed to help you hide in style._

“What the fuck?” Goro says again, louder.

He goes back to the main confidants tab with a sinking feeling, a growing tide of humiliation. There’s one other entry. A confident half-smile greets him, knowing and mocking.

**_Fool; Akira Kurusu._ **   
_1\. A fellow wild card. He has seen your true face and still loves you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My [twitter account!](https://twitter.com/LaTigra46636273)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year🎊🎊🎊🎊

Going to the Metaverse does not in any way help him figure out what's going on. There are plenty of shadows in the hotel, but none of them know who Goro is. He tries talking to some of them, but they're all too wrapped up in their own petty anxieties to have answers for him. He ends up wandering up and down the floors of the hotel, eventually picking a fight with the most powerful shadow just to blow off some steam. Though Loki's elated, Goro's just tired, head pounding, and a voice in his ear chanting _you're stupid, you're stupid, you're stupid_.

Just what the hell had Akira done in the Metaverse, to the MetaNav, to whatever-the-hell, to make it think that he _loved_ Goro? How had it changed everything about Goro’s own MetaNav?

Once he makes it back under his blanket, Goro takes some time to cry and cry some more like the pathetic bastard he is. 

_Let’s go and find him,_ says Loki. _Get inside him and turn his mind to mush._

 _And what good would that do?_ demands Robin Hood. 

Besides making Goro look like a bigger idiot the moment Akira realizes that, despite having years of experience with the Metaverse, Goro has no idea what the fuck he’s doing. Apparently. 

Exhaustion drags him to sleep. It must, because the next time he opens his eyes, there is indigo smoke above his eyes and a sad opera singer is trying to reach him. Her voice reminds him of resigned weeping, but muffled, like Goro is in a dungeon, putting his ears to the wall, or the roof, to hear a party going on above his head. He's lying flat on his back, on something cold. Steel?

“Welcome to the Velvet Room,” says a smooth, feminine voice.

Goro jumps to his feet. And he knows he must be in the Metaverse, because his movements are fluid. Athletic and elegant, in a way they never are in the real world. He's not Akira, who manages to move like a graceful, feline predator out in the fucking subway while the world hurries around him, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. 

"He isn't as infallible as your infatuation has led you to believe, Trickster," says the voice. 

Goro whirls around, ready to call his Persona, fixing a challenging look on his face. 

In front of him is a Western woman with curly, light-blonde hair and striking yellow eyes, holding a thick tome with an ominous sigil on the cover. She's taller than Goro, reminds him a little bit of Sae Nijima. Or like the woman Sae Nijima wishes she could be. She's wearing a stylish deep blue suit that gives her the air of a brilliant military leader from the old science fiction comics he loved as a kid. 

“Who the fuck are you?” Goro asks, deliberately insulting. 

“Your liberation,” says the woman, in her smooth voice. 

“Well, that's fucking rich,” says Goro. The only thing that will ever liberate Goro is the oblivion of death, and he suspects this lady doesn’t mean to kill him. Not immediately. “I repeat, who the fuck are you?”

“My name is Margaret,” says the woman, inclining her head in a way that makes it look like she’s doing Goro some great favor. “It would serve you well to remember your manners.” 

To hell with his manners. He never had any to begin with. “Are you the one who altered my MetaNav?” he asks. It definitely would be less humiliating than _Akira_ doing it. 

“I'm the one who unlocked your powers,” says Margaret. “I can take them back if you do not cooperate.” 

“Cooperate with what?” 

“Before I can tell you more,” says Margaret, “I need you to prove yourself.”

“No.” Just no. Goro can’t do this anymore. “I'm never _proving_ myself to anyone ever again.”

“Oh?” He can tell that he's impressed the lady. 

And he’s sad to admit that it makes him happy. Visibly so, probably. He’s never escaping the little boy bouncing from foster home to foster home, begging for any scrap of attention. 

_I am thou. . ._

“Shit,” breathes Goro.

_Thou art I. . ._

Margaret smiles as though she can hear the voice. Maybe she _is_ the one who's doing this to him. Goro’s going to fucking kill her. 

He doesn't get a chance. Before he can call his Persona, he feels himself waking, punched out of his strange dream, heart racing before he so much as opens his eyes. But he's rested, more so than he has been in a very long time. He can lift his neck without vertigo or nausea. It's pretty much bullshit. Goro's used to his exhaustion, to the hateful ache in his bones that fills him with determination. 

With a furious growl, he gets his phone and opens the MetaNav app. As he expected, there's a new entry in the Confidants tab. 

_Empress; Margaret_  
_A denizen of the Velvet Room. She has enlisted you to solve a great mystery._

Well, isn’t that fucking great for Margaret? Maybe she'll slip Goro a credit card, a few words of praise here and there, and then a command to annihilate her foes. All the while planning to kill him and toss his corpse aside like old trash the instant she has no further use for him. Speaking of, now that Goro is rested, he feels way less blasé about telling Shido to go fuck himself. It's a miracle Shido hasn't sent one of his hitmen to kill Goro in a particularly humiliating and painful way. 

The doorbell rings as he's checking the election news, startling Goro. He grabs the kitchen knife, thumb hovering over the MetaNav app, though no hitman worth a piss would announce his presence via the _doorbell_.

It's Gabriela, hauling along a cart full of clothes. “Surprise!” she chirps at him, as she wheels her wares into the room. “I didn’t want to keep you waiting; almost came back to take your measurements, but I got the feeling you needed some time to yourself, so I just eyeballed some outfits and hoped you liked trying on clothes, girly as it is.”

“Please, do come in,” says Goro, sarcastically, as he closes the door behind her.

“Glad to see - and smell - that you bathed!” says Gabriela, clapping her hands and looking at him as though he’s a puppy.

Goro stares at her. “Okay,” he says, guessing that she has no idea what a “confidant” is, at least not in the context of the Metaverse. 

“So. . .” she says, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. “About the clothes?”

Confidants probably don’t get kicked out when they make overt attempts to help their “friends”. While Goro still suspects that Akira is playing a trick on him, he wants to see it all play out. 

“I defer to your fashion expertise,” he tells her.

A bright smile blooms on Gabriela’s face, making her look. . . less like a tawdry copy of Takamaki and more like herself. Something in Goro tries to feel satisfied, but he crushes that tendril of hope because he _promised_ himself, while Shido’s cognition sneered at him, that he would never again pathetically cling to the promise of _anyone’s_ approval. Much less some vapid girl who can’t google the capital city of the country she is pretending to be from. 

That being said, she actually seems to know clothes and took into consideration Goro’s vaguely voiced intentions to not stand out. He ends up wearing faded khakis and a pale green, zipless Featherman hoodie, both a size too big for him. And the Featherman character is one of his least favorite, but whatever. That shouldn’t matter. 

“I think your best bet is to look like a lanky teen who’s uncomfortable with himself,” says Gabriela.

Is she making fun of him?

“Dying your hair black might be a good idea,” she says. 

“No.”

“I love your natural color too, but -”

“No,” insists Goro. Fuck his stupid natural hair color, but he can’t risk remembering Akira every time he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He already randomly thinks of Akira often enough as it is. 

“Oh, okay,” says Gabriela, very much with the air of someone used to dealing with difficult customers. “Let me do something about the styling at least, come on. . .”

Grumbling, Goro lets Gabriela do his hair. Her fingers passing over his scalp remind him of Akira doing the same thing that one time while helping him evade annoying fans, and his heart races. Which is pathetic, but it would be even _more_ pathetic to have a meltdown about melting down. So he bears it, trying to remember anyone else touching him like this. His mother, gently untangling knots while humming a lullaby. Sometimes, she’d cried.

Well, that’s worse. “Enough,” he says to Gabriela, pulling away from her with a frown. “I’m sure I look fine.” She opens her mouth, perhaps to protest, but is interrupted by someone ringing the doorbell. 

“Will people just fuck off?” Goro half-yells, turning to glare at the door. 

“Did you order food?” tries Gabriela, in a small voice. 

Goro doesn’t answer. Considers getting the kitchen knife again, then does so because fuck it. Gabriela doesn’t say anything when he fumbles under his old clothes, not even when she sees what exactly he’s looking for. He makes a note of that as he looks for his phone so he can have the MetaNav app ready to go. 

All thoughts about how he will handle Gabriela’s nonchalance towards his behavior fly right out of his head when he opens the door and finds Shido.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is now a Persona 4 crossover.
> 
> My [twitter account.](https://twitter.com/LaTigra46636273)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what if the Treasure stealing stuff doesn't necessarily make someone a better person, but just a different type of shitty person? I just had a thought.

Shido backhands him across the face. Not even hard, though Goro does bite his lip and floods his mouth with the taste of blood. It's enough to startle him, so one of Shido’s goons can grab his arms, snatch the knife from his hand, and another can search him and take his phone. Distantly, Goro hears Gabriella gasping and whimpering from somewhere behind them. He hopes that she doesn't end up dead in a gutter somewhere for the crime of being sent to his room.

 _Stay calm_ , he tells himself, as Goon A pulls on his arm hard enough that his shoulder aches. _Don't let them seen you're scared._

Not that he _is_ scared, though he knows that he should be. It's like he's standing outside himself, watching a scene in a bad movie. The villain has come to kill the antihero, and at this point, Goro would have an ace up his sleeve or friends to unexpectedly rescue him. What a joke. No one's coming to save Goro. No one ever has.

He looks up at Shido, trying to channel all of Loki's psychotic rage, but Shido isn’t even angled in his direction; Goro can see only the light reflecting off the side of his bald head. The fucker is fiddling with Goro's phone, which is of course it’s password-locked. A long time ago, when Goro was still stupid, he'd told Wakaba Isshiki that he accessed Mementos via his phone. They had never figured out how that worked, or why their computers wouldn’t register the MetaNav software on his phone, or why he was the only one who could see it. Shido grimaces, then gestures at his goons. The one holding Goro lets him go.

The first thing Goro does is look towards Gabriella. She’s standing by the bed, hands curled together in front of her chest in a way that makes her look like she’s praying. She looks at Goro with wide, questioning eyes, which only makes him feel like shit. He has no plan, no answers for her, nothing. All he can do is hope that Shido lets her walk out of the hotel room without asking questions. Carefully, he takes a few steps towards her, not daring to look at Shido.

 _Please, let him still be fiddling with my phone. No, calm down._ Somehow, his frantic inner monologue takes on Robin Hood’s tone. _She’s nothing. He doesn’t look at women unless he means to fuck them. Calm down._

“Go,” he tells Gabriella.

He expects that she’ll run out of the room, but instead, she runs towards him, hesitating only for a second before throwing her arms around him. Goro forces himself not to react, not to flinch, freeze, or push her off. If Shido thinks he cares for her, then she’s as good as dead. He _doesn’t_ care about her. She’s just a stupid foreign girl he met yesterday. She means nothing. There’s no need to even act, no matter what the MetaNav might be saying. Goro stays still as she pulls at his arm, pushes off the sleeve of the sweater she’d brought him, and places a pen against the pale, thin skin of his inner forearm. It’s a fine-point, red gel ink pen with sparkles that scratches as it drags across his skin, but Goro does not wince.

“Call me,” says Gabriella, as she finishes writing down a number. Then she kisses his cheek and runs out of the room. The goons don't try to stop her. There’s a soft click when she closes the door behind her, then the room is bathed in complete silence.

Goro bites his lip, right where Shido’s backhand split it open, and floods his mouth with fresh blood. He tastes the sharp copper and forces his hands not to curl into fists. In his head, Loki laughs.

“Akechi,” says Shido.

The bastard will want him to use his powers to help him still. If Goro can just convince him that he’s still obedient, if he can just plaster a pleasant, empty smile on his face again and flatter him just _right_. . .

“Your mother had a stunning voice,” says Shido.

Goro has to swallow down bile. Unable to keep the disgust from his face, he fixes Shido with a hard stare. "Don’t you dare mention her to me.”

Shido has the gall to look shocked, like he’d expected Goro to stay quiet and wait patiently while he polluted the atmosphere with whatever vapid regret the Phantom Thieves have filled his head with. “What I’ve done to you is perhaps my greatest sin,” he says, confirming Goro’s worse suspicions.

“They fucking got you,” says Goro.

“Yes, it appears so,” says Shido, resigned.

Goro’s gaze slides to the goons. They must be significant in some way, if Shido is willing to let them witness whatever misguided apology he means to burden Goro with. Goro does not know them, doesn’t recognize the details of the tattoos he sees sneaking from under their collar to adorn their meaty necks. He doesn’t know if it would matter if he did. They are staring straight ahead, refusing to make eye contact with Goro or with each other, waiting for Shido’s next command.

“To say that I’m sorry now would be. . . self-serving,” says Shido.

“It’d be a fucking lie,” says Goro.

“Yes, I suppose,” says Shido, pocketing Goro’s phone.

Whatever. Any phone will do. Once Goro gets his hand on another one, he’ll disappear into the Metaverse, and then- He swallows, Loki’s laughter echoing in his mind. He’ll figure out what to do after. It won’t be too difficult, since all he really wants now is to find Akira and shatter his perfect fucking life into a million little pieces. Death would be too good for that fucker.

“Actions, on the other hand, are always true,” says Shido, adopting a grim look. “I don’t intend to confess and weep for forgiveness from a world that offers none. It would be a waste to squander the power I’ve gained.”

“You mean the power I got for you,” says Goro, not that it fucking matters anymore. Akira went and scrambled his bastard of a father’s brain, thereby snatching Goro’s precious revenge right out from under Goro’s nose.

“True,” says Shido.

Somehow, Goro’s entrails tighten further.

“My legacy as Prime Minister, whatever it ends up being, will be entirely thanks to you,” says Shido.

 _I don't care, I don't care, I-don't-care, Idon'tCARE. . ._ Goro wants to scream it, so maybe it will become true. All the power at this monster's feet, all the damage he'll do to a country of millions of people, all of it will be because Goro helped him.

Shido takes the few steps necessary so that he's standing right in front of Goro, close enough that Goro can smell his perfume - something that reminds him of leather and makes his nose twitch in disgust. He tries to stand perfectly as Shido lays a hand on his shoulder, though the touch sends an electric shock of pure revulsion down his spine. All the defiance he can muster is to look straight into Shido dark eyes - his plain, dark brown eyes, so painfully mundane. So much for the eyes being a window into the soul.

"I meant to kill you," says Shido, sliding his other hand under Goro's chin.

"I know," says Goro. If only he still had his knife. Shido is a tall man, obsessed with his masculinity and thus fit and strong. But a knife is a knife, especially wielded by someone as furious as Goro.

"I didn't intend to do it myself even," says Shido, as though discussing a puzzling film. "A son, one as extraordinary as you, and I was going to have some ordinary scum slit your throat and dump your corpse out into the sea."

"Maybe I'm _not_ your son," says Goro. “What do you have to go on? My looks? The ramblings of a drunken whore?”

“Don’t be silly,” says Shido, stroking under Goro’s chin. “I asked for a paternity test years ago, out of curiosity.”

Goro can’t quite hide the little gasp that escapes him. It shouldn't be such a surprise. The cognition had confirmed that Shido knew who he was. He rears back, looking away so he can get a modicum of privacy while he squeezes his eyes shut, desperate to hide his tears. Shido had intended to kill Goro anyway ands _till_ , Goro can’t suppress a surge of pathetic pride. For what, exactly? Because Shido managed to be vaguely proud of him? _After_ Akira brainwashed him?

“I’ll never kill for you again,” says Goro. More like he whispers, really, but he _means_ it. Shido’s about to figure out how difficult it is to deal with powerful, influential enemies without a vicious supernatural hitman on his side.

“You will,” Shido says, so sure of himself that it makes Goro’s stomach curdle. “Now, this tantrum you’ve been throwing with my credit card obviously has to stop.”

 _It’s not a tantrum._ Goro can’t bring himself to say that out loud.

“I’m paying for a perfectly adequate apartment,” continues Shido. “I have paid professional stylists to handle your wardrobe, _and_ given you a generous monthly allowance. This hotel room, the stunt with the alcohol. . . it’s beneath you, isn’t it?”

That’s rich. That’s fucking priceless.

“As a gesture of goodwill, I’ll allow you to keep the emergency credit card,” says Shido, “so long as you agree to return to the apartment and wait for further orders.”

 _Go fuck yourself._ Goro can’t say that out loud either. His eyes flit to the yakuza as he tries to convince himself that he’s not fighting because he’s afraid of them.

“Akechi,” says Shido.

“Are you gonna do anything to the Phantom Thieves?” asks Goro.

“Do you mean Akira Kurusu?”

It takes everything out of Goro not to flinch. “I’ll work for you only if you agree not to do anything to him.” Goro means to kill that little fucker himself.

“Fair enough,” says Shido. “I owe the boy a great debt, in a manner of speaking. We have a deal.”

“Okay,” says Goro.

“Excellent,” says Shido, walking over to pat Goro’s shoulder.

He starts babbling about how happy he is, but he can’t hear because that fucking voice is back in his head, with its vapid chant about the wings of redemption, and Goro is actually going to throw up. _With the birth of the Lust arcana. . ._

“What?” whispers Goro, turning towards Shido as he places the gaudy phone on the bed.

“I look forward to a more open and honest partnership, Goro,” Shido says, with a serious nod.

Then he gestures at his goons and walks out while Goro tries to figure out if him being the Lust confidant means Shido wants to fuck him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My [twitter account!](https://twitter.com/LaTigra46636273)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dropping this here before I pass right the fuck out lol
> 
> Warnings at end notes

After some cursory investigation into Western tarot cards, Goro tentatively concludes that Shido probably doesn't want to fuck him. The motif seems to have more to do with control, and a desire to master one's destiny. Maybe. It's incoherent bullshit, as far as Goro can tell. He got as far as reading about The Fool's infinite potential before giving up in disgust. Even bizarre magical software is in love with Akira Kurusu. Excellent. 

Goro has more important things to worry about. Like getting back to his apartment to plot his next move. 

It's strange, going back. Though he's been gone for maybe seventy-two hours, everything looks alien. Shido’s stylists had not been interested in Goro’s private quarters, so the furniture is generic, plain shit out of an interior design magazine touting minimalism. When he’d first moved in, Goro had considered hanging some Featherman posters but he’d decided against it. It would’ve looked silly next to the apartment’s sole beige cubist painting. What if Shido visited and got the idea that Goro was just some silly kid? What a fool Goro had been. 

There are papers on his desk - a print-out of _No Exit_ by Sartre, in French - that Goro doesn't remember printing out or reading. He had underlined _L'enfer, c'est les autres_ with a red pen. Whatever. Goro does not intend to stay under Shido's thumb for the rest of his life, so he needs to eliminate Akira as soon as possible. His rival’s perfect fucking life is the only thing Shido has to lord over Goro anymore.

So Goro goes to his closet, ignores his stomach's hungry protests, and looks for the suitcase with the hidden compartment. Where he keeps his handgun. There's no need to get dramatic this time. He knows where Akira will be, and he hopes the bastard has his shitty friends with him. Maybe Goro will blow the fucker's brains out in front of his awful friends this time. In front of that stupid asshole, Sakamoto. He imagines it as he passes by his fridge to pick up a can of carbonated water, Sakamoto's shocked face as Akira’s brains splatter at his feet. 

No, he doesn't need to make it too elaborate. Akira tends to visit the theater at Central Street this day of the week, which Goro knows because he'd memorized Akira's carefree routine the moment he'd sussed out that Akira was someone important. Right after they'd met at the TV station, where Akira had so effortlessly challenged him. He’d rationalized it at first, of course, and eventually, he’d told himself that he’d sensed that Akira was a fellow Persona user. Now, he just shrugs to himself as he gets a bottle of carbonated water from his fridge. Akira’s pretty. Goro had been drawn to the bastard like a moth to a flame, just like any of his other sycophants. Pathetic.

He doesn’t need to change clothes to go to the theater. Gabriella had dressed him in a sweater with a hoodie, and even if she hadn’t, no one expects to see the detective prince wearing a faded green sweatshirt. Just in case, gets a random ticket at the automated kiosk, then sits by a bench to scan the crowd coming into Shibuya theater. Though Akira should fade to the background in his plain clothes and tousled black hair, that is never the case. At least, it’s not the case for Goro. It’s not even because of the cat, as it does a phenomenal job of hiding, possibly thanks to Metaverse fuckery. 

That day, Akira gets his ticket at the kiosk. It’s unlike his usual habit of standing in line so he can chatter with the cashier, but it makes Goro’s job easier. He follows Akira quietly, hand on the gun in his pocket. _Night Comes,_ the title of the movie Akira had chosen, scrolls over the entrance to the theater. Goro has no idea what it's about, so it must be new. Extremely new. Goro kinda pays attention to entertainment news, and he's only been having a hotel breakdown for a few days. 

As it turns out, _Night Comes_ is an old yakuza drama from the 1990s, one of many pulp fiction films that came out around those times. The hero is an aging yakuza who finds a young girl in the closet of his last target, after he'd shot the woman in the head. Of course. Instead of retiring, the old yakuza decides to save this anonymous preschooler from the Tokyo underworld, thereby pissing off his boss and dying in a blaze of redemption and bullets. How quaint.

It's like Akira picked the movie to annoy Goro and to help him. Since it's old, there aren't many patrons around them, just two other girls giggling to themselves and kissing. The constant barrage of bullets might mask Goro's own gun going off, especially since he's seated behind Akira, only a couple of empty rows between them, and could easily shoot him in the back of the head. No need to speak to him, to look him in the eyes and smirk. Goro could just take his gun out, shoot Akira, and get up and walk out while the two girls screamed. 

Still, Goro cannot bring himself to do it. He wants to see Akira's face, his grey eyes as he stares at Goro with his mystifying expression. Would he be interested in what Goro has to say? Or would he be laughing at Goro's pathetic desperation to undercut him? Would he open his mouth and say something clever, or would he ask a dumb question? 

The entire film goes like that, with Goro on the cusp of blowing Akira's brains out as Loki cackles in the back of his mind. He grips the gun multiple times, index finger over the trigger, but he just can't bring himself to do it. He would blame Robin Hood, but that aspect of himself is farther away than Loki, disgusted and resigned at what Goro has been reduced to. The truth is Goro just wants to see Akira's eyes again, to hear his voice. Even if Akira uses it to mock him. 

The movie and Goro sits there, waiting for Akira to leave so he can retreat to lick his wounds. Akira does not get up, not even after the girls pass in front of him, still giggling and merry, as the credits roll by. Even after the credits finish and the theater lights brighten, Akira just sits and stares at the blank screen. Then he throws his head backwards and sighs at the ceiling. Eventually, the fucking cat hops up on top of the back of Akira's seat and starts complaining.

"You won't get anything out of the movie if you don't pay attention," it complains. "Akira!"

 _Won't get anything out of it. . .?_ Goro thinks.

"Akira!" 

"Do you think there's an afterlife?" Akira asks, suddenly.

Goro flinches at the sound of his voice.

"What do you mean?" asks the cat. 

"Like what happens when someone dies," huffs Akira. "What else could I mean?"

Had Goro ever heard perfect Akira sounding. . . impatient? Almost _mean_?

"Is this about Akechi?" asks the cat, without a hint of tact. 

Goro could get along with the cat. 

"Who else would I be talking about?" says Akira. "Am I supposed to just move on now? After he pulled that stupid ass stunt?" 

"Well, he did save us," says the cat

"Whatever," says Akira, while Goro's heart hammers in his chest. "If he had just pulled his head out of his ass and _listened_ to me, he would _be_ here right now."

Goro bites his lip. He _is_ there, he _had_ gotten out without listening to Saint Akira, _and_ now he could blow the fucker's brains out. Soon. Goro's grip tightens around the handle of his gun.

"Maybe it's for the best that he didn't listen to you," says the cat.

Goro's grip relaxes. What will Akira say to that, something so true and horrible that his precious human friends would never dare say it, though they're all thinking it. 

"Yeah, it all works out neatly, doesn't it?" says Akira. "I'm alive, the Black Mask is dead, Haru gets some closure, and we even beat Shido's Shadow."

It's all true. And hearing it from Akira makes Goro want to cry.

"But _I_ don't feel closure," says Akira. "I just feel like shit."

"Akira. . ." The fucking cat shifts to Akira's shoulder, probably to do something disgusting and sweet, like rub its face on Akira's cheek to comfort him. "Was he really your friend?"

"Fuck no," says Akira. Then, he sighs. "I just. . . I bet if there's an afterlife, the little fucker is smirking up at me from behind some shitty philosophy book, smug because he got the last word in."

"Looking up at you?" asks the cat.

"He would be in hell," says Akira. "Obviously."

"Probably," mumbles the cat.

"He better wait for me," says Akira.

Goro stands up, fully intending to empty his clip into Akira's chest, but looking him in the eye so he can watch the life drain from his awful eyes. Instead, he makes a beeline for the theater's exit, Loki cackling in the back of his mind. Akira does not follow him. He probably didn't register Goro's presence. 

That doesn't matter right now.

Goro walks to the station, doing simple arithmetic in his head to distract himself. By the time he enters his train and slides into an empty seat, he's moved on to mental algebra, and he manages to take his hand off his gun. Determined, he takes out his phone and opens the Nav app.

 _Fool; Akira Kurusu._  
_2\. You have learned that he does not consider himself a good person._

Okay. So the thing has to do with Goro's own cognition, not necessarily with Akira. He'd feared that he'd need to give up pieces of himself to power up this confidant thing, whatever it's for, but it seems he just has to uncover secrets about his. . . confidants. It twists his entrails to think of Shido in such terms. 

The sight of red ink glittering on the skin of his arm catches his eye. Goro slides the sleeve of his hoodie down, then curses. He records Gabriella's number in his phone before the ink fades and then, on whim, calls her.

"Hello?" she responds, after two rings, a little confused. But calm.

"It's me," says Goro.

"Who?"

"From the master suite at the hotel," says Goro, unwilling to say his name even though the train is mostly empty.

"Oh!" says Gabriella. "I'm so glad you're safe! I thought for sure that Mr. Shido- I mean. . ."

"Thanks," says Goro. "I think I'll be needing more of your services."

"Oh, yeah," says Gabriella. "Really, you were so nice to me, so you don't even have to pay me. You're that kid who's always on the news, right? I was afraid to ask any questions."

"That's probably the smartest thing you've said since I met you," says Goro.

"Haha," says Gabriella, voice flat. 

"How soon can we meet?" asks Goro. 

"Literally tomorrow, if you want," says Gabriella. "Just send the address."

"Okay," says Goro. "Wait for a message. I have some things to deal with, and I don't know how long it'll take."

"Sure, don't mind me," says Gabriella. "Not like I have a life or anything."

Goro snorts and hangs up. 

If he can't bring himself to eliminate Akira, then he'll just have to go back to the original plan: Shido.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Akechi almost goes full school shooter at a theater
> 
> My [twitter account!](https://twitter.com/LaTigra46636273)

**Author's Note:**

> My [twitter account!](https://twitter.com/LaTigra46636273) This is where I'm sharing my Persona 5 hot takes lol


End file.
